The first word is a continuum. I try to appreciate the work 
of one matter and its afterimage. 

On this day of audible time, I again start
in nostalgia. When he said, Let me tell you, and went on to how poorly

we were living by his rules, everything broke
to a last best effort. To this day, what I know 

is historical. Oligarchical. Love came 
as a violation and now my offenses are 

what I remember. Tangled 
laces he helped me ribbon. Two bows. I’m deep 

in the middle of today. I am never 
in more than another contradiction of self.  My motor, elegiac,

runs on its swirling. Yesterday, I was 
downtown eating ice cream so leisurely 

with a small green spoon and looked out 
as a drum crossed the desert. For that moment— 

ease. The sound it wasn’t making stayed on my mind. 
I realize that what I’m telling you 

doesn’t also tell you that I understand nothing 
has ever happened to me. 

My ongoing story. I have so many questions and the answers 
are lit with translucence. I’ve given up thinking 

about my earlier self and how little is fact.